A Summer of Realization
by LadyMalvence
Summary: Mikhail never liked the summer it was smothering to him as well as his creativity. He would often take this opportunity to go visit his master, Demetri, further north to escape the heat without hesitation. However, things had been much different since he had moved to Bluebell. Written for the Bikini Solstice Prompt over at the Village Square Forum.


**For this story, I searched online for Russian terms of endearment and I am really hoping that I am not mistaken with them.**

 **Moy mal'chik is supposed to mean "my boy"**

 **Myshka is "little mouse"**

 **Solnishko is "sunshine" or "sun"**

 **Rybka is "little fish" which is supposed to be a good term of endearment for a child and I thought it sounded cute and something Demetri would call Mikhail's child so, it's there.**

 **Hopefully, I have been informed correctly and these phrases mean what they're supposed to mean instead of something horribly, horribly wrong. If any of them are horribly, horribly wrong or used incorrectly, please for the love of all that is dear, let me know.**

 **Written for the Bikini Solstice Prompt over at the Village Square Forum. Enjoy!**

* * *

Mikhail replayed that last encounter over and over again in his mind. He grabbed the last of his shirts, stuffing it in his duffle bag and zipped it with great effort.

Aria was setting on the edge of his bed heavily, trying hard not to make eye contact with him. He knew she was upset and, if he were completely honest, it wasn't exactly doing wonders for him either.

"Why do you have to go?" she demanded quietly, fighting the tears that were burning her eyes.

Mikhail's slender, calloused fingers brushed her jawline gently. Resting them on the point of her heart shaped face, he gently tipped her head back so her violet eyes met his gray ones.

"My beautiful Aria," he said tenderly, the accent in his voice barely perceivable, "leaving you behind is more difficult than anything I have ever done."

"Then why do it?"

"I always go to see Demetri during the summer. He will be expecting me."

Aria sighed, they had been over this many times over the spring and she knew that he couldn't stay,

"It's only for the summer," he would reassure her.

"I'll miss you," she stated in a voice that was barely a whisper.

"And I you my myshka," he said, brushing his lips against hers. "I love you."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her deeply.

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With that final kiss, Mikhail was surrounded by the dark wooden walls of his teacher's home. He tipped his chair back, staring at the ceiling, his violin resting on its stand at his side. The house, the place where he had grown up, had always been warm and inviting before but now it felt big and empty reminding him that Aria was far away.

Aria was so friendly and was always daydreaming with childlike exuberance. She believed in magic and fairytales, which Mikhail found endearing while others found it strange.

They had spent many afternoons lying on the grass near the goddess pond staring at the clouds. Aria's head would be resting on his chest, his arm thrown carelessly around her shoulders. She would point at a random ball of fluff and exclaim that it was a butterfly, bird, horse, or whatever it resembled.

He rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, letting his mind wonder to thoughts of his beautiful myshka.

"Mikhail..." Aria called to him, smiling warmly.

His mind's eye began tracing every curve of her body and every detail of her face.

"Mikhail," the ghost called slightly louder, reaching her hand out for him.

His mind began to trick him into thinking that he could actually feel her soft, porcelain skin against his calloused fingertips. He pulled her close to him, her rose colored lips parted slightly, begging for him to kiss them.

"Mikhail!" the soft lyrical voice of the beautiful woman before him morphed into a deep voice with a thick accent.

Mikhail toppled backward in his chair and bumped his head, hard against the shelf behind him. He straightened his glasses and glared toward the interruption. His stern gaze soon softened as soon as Demetri entered the room.

The man walked further into the room. He paused, looking down at Mikhail, "Are you alright?"

Mikhail rubbed the back of his head and blushed slightly, trying to laugh it off, "Yes, I just had some issues with my chair."

Demetri cocked his bushy gray eyebrow at the boy who was sprawled on the bedroom floor but decided it best not to ask too many questions, ""I have been calling for you moy mal'chik."

"Forgive me sir. My mind was elsewhere," Mikhail responded as he untangled himself from the chair and began to stand.

Demetri chuckled warmly, "Thinking about your myshka?"

Mikhail blushed slightly at the term of endearment. Demetri laughed heartily and patted Mikhail on the back.

"You know, it warms my heart to see you so happy."

Mikhail nodded slightly and turned his attention back to the warm summer sun reflecting off of the lake behind Demetri's cabin. This same scene had served as inspiration for him numerous times in the past but not now. He didn't feel happy at that moment, he felt rather far from it actually.

Demetri stroked the bushy salt and pepper beard that adorned his chin, "I know you don't feel it now," he corrected himself.

Mikhail sighed softly, his eyes never leaving the scenery before him, "I miss her," he admitted quietly.

"You know I would have understood if you had stayed with your myshka correct?" Demtri inquired

"Demetri," Mikhail sighed, "I always come to visit you during the summer."

"I realize that," Demetri responded, crossing his large arms over his broad chest. "Quite frankly, I do not see the reason for your return every summer. Take your myshka on a vacation, go somewhere that is not here, give me some alone time to travel with my solnishko."

It was Mikhail's turn to cock his brow at his teacher, "You have a girlfriend?"

Demetri looked at Mikhail confused, "Not quite."

Suddenly they heard the downstairs and a rather effeminate male voice, "Demetri?"

They both looked toward the door, "Ah. That would be Victor"

Realization suddenly hit Mikhail, "Wait…You and Victor?"

"You did not know?" Demetri questioned. "I am a 48 year old man and have lived with the same man for over 20 years. I play concert violin and he plays the flute. How could you not know?"

Mikhail was silent for a moment. How did he not know? He lived with these two men for most of his life and it never once dawned on him. Then he realized something else.

"Hey! I play the violin," Mikhail reprimanded.

"And this is supposed to be a counter indication?" Demetri inquired. "You are the one who left your myshka to come visit two old men."

"Yeah because you mean so much to me," Mikhail countered.

"That is a nice sentiment," Demetri admitted, scratching his beard. "Now when are you going back to Bluebell?"

"Are you really that eager to get rid of me sir?"

"Well it would be nice to have a moment alone with Victor without worrying about you popping in randomly. This actually brings up a new question. Why do you never call or write before you come here? Do you know what you interrupted? It would have been traumatizing for you considering you thought we were but friends."

Mikhail blinked at his teacher before shuddering slightly, "That is a disturbing image you painted sir."

"Yes, well it would have been even more disturbing had you come in a few moments later."

Mikhail stared at Demetri for a moment before shuddering again, "I come here every year, I thought you would be expecting me!"

"We both thought that maybe you would find a nice girl and settle down. You know, have a life that does not involve interrupting us."

They glowered back and forth between each other before Mikhail finally let out a heavy sigh, "Well, since you do not want me here, I shall take my leave and return to Bluebell."

"Moy mal'chik, we enjoy you being here very much," Demetri assured him, placing one large hand on Mikhail's slender shoulders. "We both just wish for your happiness. You do not need to spend your time here with us. You should be with your myshka."

Mikhail smiled slightly at his father figure, "And that I would call?"

"Or write," Demetri replied pointedly.

Mikhail chuckled softly and shook his head, "Perhaps I shall bring my beautiful Aria back with me some day."

"We would enjoy that," Demetri assured him. "Just call first!"

"Or write." Mikhail added.

Demetri patted Mikhail firmly on the back and turned to leave so Mikhail could pack. He stopped at the door shortly, "It is always nice to see you Mikhail. When you come back, I expect you to have your own rybka."

Mikhail laughed and shook his head, "One could only hope sir."

Mikhail reached into the closet and pulled out his duffle bag. He began excitedly stuffing his belongings inside hurriedly. Of course he loved seeing Demetri but nothing would ever compare to the joy of seeing his myshka once again.


End file.
